


A Travesty in Tacos

by JazzRaft



Series: kitchen disasters [2]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, Fluff, Humor, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-25
Updated: 2019-07-25
Packaged: 2020-07-19 20:17:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,100
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19979923
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JazzRaft/pseuds/JazzRaft
Summary: In Noct's eyes, it might as well be the most terrible disaster of taco preparation in history. To Nyx, it's just terribly adorable.





	A Travesty in Tacos

**Author's Note:**

> A [tumblr prompt fill](https://jazzraft.tumblr.com/post/186475223032/may-i-request-nyxnoct-with-and-you-wonder-why-i) from a list of [kitchen disasters.](https://jazzraft.tumblr.com/post/186452779569/kitchen-disasters)

“And you wonder why I never let you cook.”

“It’s not my fault that you don’t label anything!”

Nyx smothered a smile by biting the inside of his cheek. The blush reddening Noct’s cheeks was genuinely mortified and, regardless if Nyx thought it was adorable, he needed to act like this little fish faux pas was as devastating as his boyfriend seemed to think. He didn’t want Noct to think he was patronizing him. But he did want him to know how Nyx thought the whole “disaster” was whole-heartedly endearing, rather than catastrophic.

“You didn’t smell the difference?” Nyx prodded. He could resist the smile, but not the opportunity to tease.

“I was in a rush,” Noct growled, roughly scrubbing a hand through the back of his hair. The tumultuous strands snagged around his fingertips, and he yanked a little harder than he needed to release the balled up fist from the tangles.

Nyx frowned. He took Noct’s hand to nurse the white-knuckled coils of his fingers back out to smoothly lace with his own. “My little king’s a little too hard on himself,” he said, releasing his smile to soothe the prince’s rattled nerves.

Noctis huffed, a short, heavy sigh that deflated his rigid shoulders. He seemed to shrink two sizes with that one breath; like a cat, whose fur stood on end when offended before flattening back down to sulk. He bumped his forehead against Nyx’s chest, hiding his shame.

“I should know this stuff,” he mumbled. “I worked in food service. I live with Ignis, for Shiva’s sake! I should have learned something through osmosis, at least.”

“Noct, you did literally everything right,” Nyx chuckled. “You baked, you broiled, and assembled. Just mixed up one little ingredient.”

“Yeah, because your organizational skills suck.”

“There, there,” Nyx said, solemnly, patting Noctis on the back. “Blame it all on me.”

“I do, jerk. All your fault.”

“Yup, all on me. I went out of my way to sabotage your incredible culinary expertise.”

Noct’s shoulders shivered, small sounds muffled into Nyx’s shirt. It took him half a heartbeat of fleeting panic to realize Noct was not crying, but laughing. Because that’s all one could really do over such an ordinary, inane, every-day error such as this. Just like going for the salt instead of sugar when he was in a rush making coffee in the morning, it happened to Nyx, it happened to everybody.

And that’s probably what Noctis thought was so funny about putting _nutmeg_ in a fish taco instead of _cumin_. He was just like everybody else. Accidents happened, mistakes were made, and – imagine that – the world didn’t come to a horrible, fiery end because of it. A foreign ambassador wasn’t offended, an entire nation wasn’t insulted, and a declaration of war wasn’t made over an ill-tasting taco served at a royal consulate.

Instead, Noct got a pat on the back, a consolation kiss, and the world kept turning for another taco travesty.

“It wasn’t really that bad,” Nyx said. “I mean, they still _looked_ delicious. Eating with your eyes is half the challenge.”

Noctis shoved his chest and told him to, “Shut up and stop trying to make me feel better.”

“No can do, little king.”

Nyx closed his arms around Noct’s shoulders, propping his chin in Noct’s hair and rocking from one foot to the other. Noctis sighed, resigned, looped his arms around Nyx’s waist, and let himself coast along to the movement.

“They would have been perfect, otherwise,” Nyx said, after enough of the rhythmic silence had calmed them both down from the despairing hilarity of the situation.

“Yeah, they would have,” Noctis agreed, exhaling the last of his frustrations.

The fish tacos sat on Nyx’s old, destined-for-the-scrap-heap, ready-to-swap-for-a-real-coffee-table trolley in front of the TV. There were two to a plate, crisp yellow shells curved around flaky white fish and a rainbow of veggies that Nyx was shocked Noctis deigned to incorporate. Bright shreds of purple slaw, red tomatoes, and creamy green avocado decorated each shell, with a generous helping of shredded cheese and an artful zig-zag of seasoned mayonnaise fit for a magazine cover.

He really had picked up a fair few things from Ignis. There was no faulting Noct for his presentation – Nyx didn’t fault him for his seasoning mistake, either. If Nyx had learned anything from this innocent debacle, it was that he _should_ let Noct cook in his own kitchen more often. He should let him familiarize himself with Nyx’s chaotic cupboards, let him feel just as comfortable in his kitchen as Nyx did; let him feel at home.

He’d never forbidden him from cooking, of course. It was more out of habit than anything that Nyx insisted on being the chef when they decided to eat in at his apartment. It was his home and therefore his responsibility to show his hospitality the Galahdian way – the way he’d learned from watching his mother, growing up (guests got whacked with a wooden spoon if they offered to help in her kitchen, that’s just how stubborn she was about being a good hostess).

“I should let you cook more often,” Nyx conceded. “I like getting the royal treatment for dinner.”

“You mean the royal meltdown,” Noctis chuckled.

He drew away from Nyx, shaking his head over his own embarrassment. He combed his fingers through his hair, gentler this time, bringing back some semblance of order that only Noctis understood about the disorderly style.

“Take-out?” he offered. “I’d try it again, but I’m all out of fish.”

“Round two can wait another night,” Nyx agreed, reaching up to tug a few errant strands of Noct’s hair back into their out-of-place placement. “And on that night, I promise to put labels on the spice jars.”

“You better,” Noctis said, his smile turning from exasperated to deprecating. “Accommodate my needs, jeez. I’m royalty, and expect to be treated as such y’know.”

Nyx snorted in amusement, especially at how quickly Noctis’s face dismantled of its fake petulance into a grin.

“I’m sure I can still treat you like royalty,” Nyx intoned, sliding his hands around Noct’s waist to pull him back closer.

“Not on an empty stomach you won’t.”

Noctis wiggled his way out of Nyx’s grasp to pick up his phone and put in an order for take-out – professionally done fish tacos from a reputable restaurant this time. As he was talking, Nyx waved emphatically to get his attention. Noct’s brow creased, putting a hand over the receiver and mouthing, “ _What?”_

“Tell them to hold the nutmeg.”

Noctis nearly threw a taco in his face.

**Author's Note:**

> It's been nice to get back to some sweet and fluffy prompts as a little break from the bigger projects. I hope you enjoy the upcoming collection of food and fluff oneshots! Let me know if you liked this <3


End file.
